


It's Riddikulus!

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Wizard Of Oz (1939)
Genre: Boggarts, F/M, Farce, Marriage Proposal, Puns & Word Play, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: How much do you remember after you leave school? For Draco, between a botched proposal, a rattling wardrobe, and a wizard who likes to poke things with a stick, hopefully, it will be enough.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 8
Collections: 2021 DBQ Round One: Boggart





	It's Riddikulus!

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2021Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2021Round1) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The theme for this round of the competition was Boggart and my chosen pairing was Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott. Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

The fire hissed, sputtered, and flared green. A thin man of thirty balancing a fiercely floral teacup and saucer stepped from the flames and surveyed what had once been a bedroom. The comfortable chairs by the fireplace were turned on their sides, propping up the large mattress barricade. His coordinating pocket square shot out of his dressing-gown's breast pocket and fluttered around his shoulders, removing the Floo powder. He sighed and looked longingly at his cup. With a wave of his hand, the wisps of steam froze in mid-air.

Draco peeked over the top of the mattress, “Theo, what have I told you about using my bedroom Floo?” 

”Probably something tedious and unimportant at high volume. You summoned help; I came. Don’t complain.” Theo padded around the barricade to find Draco shivering in black underpants. “What happened to your trousers? You didn’t say they were optional in your note.”

“Trousers are the least of my worries. We’re in the middle of a crisis.”

“ _You_ are in the middle of a crisis. _I_ am here for moral support unless we’re hiding a body. Then, I’m all in. Hiding a body is the mark of true esteem in a friendship.”

Draco snorted, “If I needed help with that, you wouldn’t even be in my top three. It's Mother, Greg, then Blaise.”

“True, Madame would be helpful in any crisis, be it hiding a body or dealing with a troublesome seating arrangement.” Theo looked appraisingly at Draco. “Your abdomen is entirely too distracting.” He settled the frozen cup and saucer on a side table that had not been pressed into barricade duty. With a flourish, Theo pulled the pocket square from his breast pocket and doubled it. He transfigured the original into a dressing-gown and tossed it to Draco. “Please, put this on, so I feel no obligation to ogle.”

Draco shrugged it on, cinched the belt tight, and stuck his wand in the pocket. 

“Setting aside the slight that I am not one of your top three accomplices, why do you need me here?” Theo pointed to his cup and saucer. “I was about to ravish that cup of tea. The things I was going to do to it.” 

At that moment, the wardrobe on the other side of the room rattled. Draco and Theo peeked over the top of the mattress. A footstool braced in front of the doors barely held them shut. “That’s why I need you here.”

“A boggart?” asked Theo.

“Greg is for smashing things, Blaise is for blackmail and extortion, and Pansy is for sabotage.” Draco ticked them off his fingers as he went. “You are for esoteric magic or poking things with sticks. Normally, I would ask Mother, she is a dab hand at household charms, but she snoops.”

“And, presumably, you do not want her to see what is in the closet. You know that I would never kiss and tell about your exploratory phase, but what are you hiding in the closet? 

Draco buried his head in his hands, muffling his admission. “Hermione’s engagement ring.”

Theo let out a whoop. “You’re proposing? We get to keep her? I can sneak her off for brunch and a film whenever? Brilliant!”

“That’s where she has been disappearing to?”

Theo raised an eyebrow, “Draco, you are a terrible boyfriend. I flooed over here months ago looking for a dove grey cravat, though your selection did nothing but disappoint. However, I did find a well-shagged Hermione asleep in your bed. I adore gossip straight from the source, so I waited until she woke up. After some screaming and awkward questions, like _What are you doing here? And_ _Just what are you looking at?_ I convinced her I was mostly harmless and we should go to brunch. She was, after all, hungry and sore. It was the polite thing to do, you heathen.”

“Well, it hardly matters now. She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“What a shame. She could handle this boggart business.” Theo returned to the side table and unfroze his cup, and inhaled, sighing contentedly. 

“Can you help me with the boggart or not?”

“Probably,” said Theo. The _for a price_ was implied.

“What do you want?” 

Theo peered at him over the rim of the cup, “Draco, I’m merely number four on your hiding-a-body list, practically an acquaintance... chums at best.”

Draco glared, “Fine. Should I have a body to hide, henceforth and forever, you will be the first person I call.”

Theo smiled, took a sip of his tea, and winced, “Too cold.” He swirled his wand above the cup, and steam issued forth. 

Draco snorted, “Now banish the boggart so I can get my clothes, find Hermione, and try to fix this _mess_.” He slammed his hand against his forehead. “How did this go so wrong?”

“This?” Theo waved his teacup towards the wardrobe, sloshing the contents. “I’d blame Pansy. This has her wandwork all over it.”

“Pansy and I… she can’t still be angry.”

“You tend toward self-sabotage and overblown angst. Pansy knows that, Draco. A boggart in the closet is solved by saying a simple charm while confronting your fear. She knows you won’t do that. Why else would you summon me to, how did you say it, _poke this with a stick_?”

“That… that _witch_.”

“Yes, she is.” Theo brought the cup to his lips and sipped. Then spit it out, frowning, “Too hot. Though I wonder, did she know about the ring, or is this just one of her generic acts of revenge for announcing her nipples were asymmetric to the entire Common Room fifth year? You are terrible at witches.”

“Maybe I should call Greg.”

“Don’t be cheeky. This can’t be solved by hitting it with a rock.” Theo gently rested his teacup on the side table and walked to the end of the mattress to assess the now rocking wardrobe. “Oh, it’s a live one. Satisfy my curiosity. Why did Hermione break up with you?”

“Why do you think _she_ dumped _me_?” asked Draco, glaring. 

“Experience. Last Yule, did or did not your mother cry all through dinner because you gave her décolletage cream for her crepey neck skin?” 

“It was very expensive cream,” said Draco peering over the mattress watching Theo approach the wardrobe.

“And why wouldn’t you want your mother to see the ring?” Theo jerked his head back towards Draco, “You haven’t told her about Hermione, have you?”

”Hermione wanted us to come out to everyone, Theo. Put a piece in _Witch Weekly_. Mother would have _bombarda-_ ed her. She would not rest until Hermione was hash.”

Theo crossed his arms. “Your mother really is magic, destroying your relationship before she knew about it. I don’t know if I can help you.”

Draco edged around the barricade to watch Theo, “I know it’s shitty. But if I tell Mother, I lose Hermione. If I commit to Hermione, I lose Mother. When I told her I couldn’t go public, Hermione stormed out before I could finish explaining or propose. Then the cursed closet started rattling. Our row must have woken the boggart. And here we are.”

Theo glanced at the gyrating wardrobe. “Yes, that’s very shitty of you, but I don’t know if I can actually do this. I remember boggarts turn into what you fear most, but I don’t remember much beyond that. It’s been an age since Hogwarts. How bad could it be? What’s your worst fear? Seeing your father in a dress-”

“What, no -” said Draco.

“- again. Or, maybe, it’s you in a dress?”

Draco grimaced and shook his head, “I’m not worried about anyone’s clothing,” He glared at Theo’s muttered _Obviously._ “I’m caught between Mother and Hermione. I don’t want to lose either of them. To know my fear-” 

“Means you could confront it?” Theo interrupted. “Sorry, I forgot we must do everything _but_ confront our fear. How did that go over with your war heroine witch?” 

The doors of the wardrobe bashed against the footstool, pushing it forward.

Draco leaned against the mattress and tipped his head back. “She thought I was breaking up with her, not proposing. Then she stormed out.”

“Chin up. Look at the boggart as a terrible way to gain some clarity.” Theo kicked the footstool to the side. “Let’s meet Humphrey.”

“Humphrey?” said Draco.

“Boggart, as in Humphrey Boggart? From _Casablanca_?” Draco stared at him blankly. ”You really need to make time for brunch and a film.”

The wardrobe doors squeaked open. Vapor drifted from its depths and lingered in the air, turning opaque as the candlelight caught it. Then a hand clutched the edge of the wardrobe door— a hand with long, delicate fingers.

And then another hand appeared.

And another.

And another. 

The mist coalesced, and it wasn’t Draco’s mother or Hermione Granger that emerged from the shadows.

It was both of them.

The boggart had merged Draco’s fears into a nightmarish chimera with Narcissa Malfoy’s head on one shoulder and Hermione’s on the other. It had pale, green skin and two long noses with a wart at each tip. Its black robe billowed, revealing striped stockings on legs that ended in sparkling ruby red slippers on all four of its feet. Its four arms reached out like a fan, and each hand held a small ball of flame. 

“Draco, duck!”

Before Draco could figure out where the duck was, Her-cissa had lobbed a series of fireballs at him. “DECEIVER!” she shouted in a high-pitched rasp.

Theo grabbed him as they scampered behind the mattress. “What the hell is that?” asked Draco.

“Well, I think it’s both of your fears made manifest, with just a twist of mine thrown in for fun.” Theo grabbed for his cup and shakily brought it to his lips, missed, and poured most of the liquid down his front.

A fireball soared over the mattress onto the bed canopy, setting it on fire. The boggart yelled, “No more hiding! Time to choose.”

“The last time we brunched, Hermione showed me a disturbing moving picture called _The Wizard of Oz_. It had wizards and witches, singing, and adorable shoes, but -spoiler- the wizard was a muggle, and one witch died when they dropped a house on her and the other from a bath. I used scourgify for weeks afterward.”

“Theo, not the time. Put down the teacup and follow me.” 

“Why are you the enemy of tea?” grumbled Theo. He carefully rested his cup on the floor and crawled toward the door after Draco. Fireballs bounced off the walls and furniture, igniting the more flammable bits.

Once in the hallway, they took off in a run. Draco gasped, “Any chance you’ve remembered the incantation to deal with a boggart? I’m sure we learned it.”

Theo huffed, “Fourth-year?”

“No, that was the death eater in disguise that turned me into a ferret. It was the shabby professor, hated Slytherins,” said Draco.

“The werewolf? I spent most of that year watching how the light played off Blaise’s eyelashes.”

Draco let out a groan. “How can you remember that but not what we need?”

“Priorities?”

With a whoosh, Her-cissa blew past them on a broom, pulled up, and pivoted to face them, cackling madly. Draco and Theo backed up against the wall. 

“Do you remember what happens if the boggart gets you?” asked Draco.

“Do you really want me to imagine worst-case scenarios right now?” 

The horror advanced on them, its voices overlapping. “-Your father think? -Never marry you. -Weak. -Spoiled.”

Draco cringed. 

Theo yelled, “ _Lumos maxima._ ” Draco, blinded by the light, felt Theo’s hand tug him back down the hallway to the bedroom and push him inside. Draco heard Theo shut and bolt the door.

Then the shrieking started. As the spots faded from Draco’s vision, he could just see the shadowy forms hurling themselves at the windows with a series of thuds. 

“Are those birds?” 

“Winged monkeys,” said Theo. 

Draco closed the drapes to block out the noise and the eerie simian faces pressed against the glass. “Anything?” 

“Merlin’s tree, how can you expect me to remember something from ten years ago? While running for my life? Give me a moment,” said Theo. 

“Can’t,” said Draco. He pointed at the smoke billowing under the door, which reformed into Her-cissa, who had tripled in size and was now towering over them to scrape the ceiling.

“I remember thinking it was silly. Like _Ludicrous_ ,” said Theo waving his wand.

A fireball flew by them, singeing Draco’s hair.

“No, that’s not it. _Preposterous_?” said Theo.

A flying monkey squealed past. 

“What about _Outrageous_?” said Draco.

A flaming, flying monkey shrieked by. 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” groaned Theo.

Behind them, the fire flared green again. “What now?” whined Draco.

Hermione stepped into the ruined bedroom, holding a large box. When she saw the boggart, her jaw dropped, then the box she held. Recovering, she pulled her wand from her sleeve with a flourish and cast, “ _Riddikulus.”_

A small cottage, complete with a rocking chair on the front porch and lace curtains in the windows, crashed down on the monster, leaving only four legs clad in striped stockings and ruby slippers. 

Theo crowed, “It’s _Riddikulus_! _That’s_ what it was. Well done, Hermione.” He picked his teacup up from the floor where, surprisingly, it was unharmed and poured the dregs on the monster’s legs, which promptly shriveled. Theo scowled at his empty cup. 

Hermione’s voice was icy. She pushed the box towards Draco with her toe, “I brought your things. I suppose all of mine have been destroyed.”

Draco’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“A-ha, found it,” Theo sang. He stood up from where he had noticed a gleam among the wreckage of the wardrobe. He held up a golden ring curled in the shape of a dragon with ruby eyes with emerald and diamond scales. What little color was left in Draco’s face quickly drained away, and Hermione’s eyebrows attempted to take flight. 

“Oh, you two are ruining the moment.” Theo walked over to Draco, grabbed his hand, and dropped the ring in his palm. “This is the part where you say you are very, very sorry for being an idiot, that you love her, and that you were _definitely_ not trying to break up but were, in fact, going to ask her to marry you, so she can keep going to brunch with me.” Theo pulled out another pocket square to dust off Draco and straightened his collar. He pushed him towards Hermione. 

Hermione blinked as her mind spun up to speed. “This is how you are going to propose? In your ruined bedroom in your dressing gown? With Theo here? No offense, Theo, but it’s an intimate moment.”

Theo pulled out another pocket square and dabbed his eyes. “Not his dressing-gown; it’s my transfigured pocket square. Glad to be here for this. Keep going. You’re doing great.” 

Draco sighed, pulled the wand from his pocket, and lightly cursed his friend. Theo’s legs shrank, and his stomach rounded, going short and stout. His arms twisted, one into a handle and the other into a spout. Theo’s neck melted into his shoulders, and his head became a gilt-edged lid. When it was done, Draco picked up the now fiercely floral Theo-pot and Theo’s cup and saucer and placed them all on the mantle. 

Draco turned to Hermione. “It has come to my attention that I have not made my intentions clear, and for that, I am sorry. In my defense, I have had this ring in my closet or on my person for the last month, waiting for the best time to give it to you. However, I have chosen the worst time, which, to be clear, was after unintentionally breaking up with you and not racing after you because my clothes and your engagement ring were in a boggart occupied closet.”

Hermione crossed her arms, “Draco, I saw your boggart. What should I think about that?”

Draco groaned and flicked his wand righting the chairs. He slumped down in one, gesturing to Hermione to sit in the other. “It looks bad. I know. My fear has been choosing one of you over the other. If I choose Mother, I lose you, and you are the best thing in my life. But if I choose you, then Mother is lost to me. Making a choice when there are only bad options doesn’t seem like a choice at all.”

Hermione crossed her arms and remained standing. “I don’t appreciate being called a bad option. Besides, if I can handle Bellatrix Lestrange, I can certainly handle your mother. She might come to appreciate my influence when she gets a Yule gift that _doesn’t_ make her cry.”

Draco groaned, “I _am_ the worst with witches.”

Hermione sighed, “You really are. Shall we try again?” She dusted off the other chair before sitting.

“If this evening has shown me anything, it is that I am scared. There. I said it. I’m afraid of losing the people I love. I don't want you to leave me. I want to be with you. I want a home with you, your books, and your cat...” He looked up and saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward. “What?”

She grinned. “Poor Theo. If he had lips, he’d say there’s no place like home.”

“I can turn him back. But I’d amend it to _there’s no home without you_.”

“Is that your proposal?”

Draco stared at the ring in his hand. Could your boggart really be defeated by confronting your fear and saying an easy charm?. He took a deep breath, “It’s _riddikulus_ , I know, but will it do? Will you marry me?”

Hermione’s eyes crinkled. “Yes. But we never speak of your boggart ever again. Harry would tease me forever. Now, please turn Theo back.”

Draco’s face relaxed. “I have a better idea.” He aimed his wand at Nott-pot, and it burbled happily. 

Finally, _finally,_ Theo was filled with tea.


End file.
